


I'm lost in admiration

by pissard



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: First Time, M/M, Slurs, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 03:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissard/pseuds/pissard
Summary: What should be a normal school night turns into something more when boredom gets the better of Boris and Theo.





	I'm lost in admiration

_Something happens, I'm head over heels_  
_I never find out till I'm head over heels_  
_Something happens and I'm head over heels_  
_Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart_  
_Don't... don't throw it away_

-

It begins as it always does. The constant chaos of their everyday life. After the final bell of the day, Boris and Theo leaving school at all but a run. Into the bus, to grab a sweaty row of seats together as close to the back as they could get and their heads bent together to discuss the afternoon’s plans. What did they want to do today? Sniff glue? Hmm, maybe not, they’d done that just yesterday. Maybe they could try the brand new Walmart that had opened a week ago to try and lift something worthwhile for dinner. Sure, but that wouldn’t be all night would it? How about trying to bum something harder off one of the older kids at the skate park? Seems risky but a worthwhile reward...

On it went, for the entirety of their thirty-five minute ride from the baking parking lot of the high school onwards out into the empty vastness of suburban wasteland. Boris followed after Theo after they got off the bus, his umbrella already popping open as soon as his feet hit the pavement, the last two off the bus. 

“I’m just fucking thirsty,” Theo said as they trailed towards his house. The May air was especially hot today, unforgiving. Springtime in New York had been a year ago now but still fresh enough that Theo remembered them as cool and damp. Las Vegas was never cool and never damp. 

Boris looked at him askance. “Always thirsty with you.”

The flimsy plans they’d concocted on the bus fell through almost immediately. The heat had completely drained them of any desires of venturing back out into it and when they finally made it to the sanctuary of Theo’s empty, echoing house it was a welcome relief. 

Bags dumped by the door, shoes kicked off by the sofa, sweaty bodies crashing onto the plush carpet, Popchyk dancing around their heads. Boris had managed to grab the remote in all of this. The TV was already turned on to one of the main ESPN stations that Theo’s dad paid hundreds a month for, to get every sport known to man streamed directly into their house at every hour. Boris muttered with a grimace in Ukrainian and began to lazily flick through the channels.

Theo watched him, like he always did, when he could in these unguarded moments. The hair at the back of Boris’ neck was damp and matted, clinging there with sweat. His shirt was dirty, some old heavily faded Pepsi shirt. Theo always thought it was very ironic when Boris wore it but he was sure that the real reason Boris wore it was just because it was a shirt. Probably one he’d found in the trash, maybe even one he had stolen just because he could.

Boris was stretched out on his stomach on the carpet, shirt bunched up and the hem of his black jeans hung low on his waist. Theo could see he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Theo was still thirsty and said as much again.

“Get me a drink,” Boris insisted distractedly. In Theo’s intense inspection, Boris had landed on some old 1950’s sci-fi and the dramatic orchestral music swelled as a rubber suited alien stumbled onto screen. Theo himself stumbled into the kitchen and pulled out two beers from the fridge. There was a half eaten plate of potato skins in a take out tray in there was well, so he grabbed it, too, and awkwardly carried his load back into the living room. 

Boris was sitting up now, cross-legged and hands up, ready to snatch both the beer and the take-out box from Theo without even a word of thanks. He was still watching the movie.

Theo didn’t care. He sat down next to Boris. Maybe a bit too close, knees drawn up, bare feet tucked one under the other, and eagerly gulped down half the beer in one go. On the screen were two men in white lab coats talking back rapidly about aliens and radiation. 

“Did you know they made these movies because they were afraid of the Russians?”

“What?”

Boris finally stopped watching the movie to turn and look at Theo.

“Yeah, it’s all alien invasions because America were afraid that the Russians would invade the US,” Theo continued when Boris stared at him blankly. 

“That makes sense,” Boris said and looked back at the movie, which was now a scene of a Hollywood starlet being chased by the rubber-suit aliens. “Americans so arrogant to see Russians as these alien monsters.” He scoffed and drank from his beer, messily eating the potato skins with his usual vigor.

Another hour passed like this. Boris watching the movies, Theo watching Boris. They drank more beer, Boris ate all the potato skins. Eventually this became too boring and Boris got up to pilfer a packet of Xandra’s cigarettes and then a little bit of glue they had left and made what use they had of it. Once they’d had their fill of this the sky outside had grown golden and purple at the edges. Theo had wandered out dazedly, sluggishly into the dying spring heat.

He struggled to get his jeans off and then sat down on the edge of the pool, Popper dutifully trailing after him. The pool deck was rough under his thighs and ass but the pool water felt good. Theo wasn’t as high as he would like to be but the buzz was good enough to halo everything in soft light and to give his feelings a distant, unreal feeling. 

“This is where you went,” Boris said, suddenly beside him. 

“This is where I went,” Theo replied, sagely. 

Boris sat down beside him, legs crossed because he was still wearing his jeans (no underwear), and stared down in the pool. The silence stretched between them. It was not uncomfortable. It never was. Especially not when they were like this. Theo liked to think that maybe, in some way, they were talking? That things were being said? But he knew that was not true. The things Theo would be saying right now would be stupid and embarrassing and we would not want Boris to know them.

Some of these things Theo did want to say. Like, hey, I’m bored and we’re both horny, so what if we did something about it? This was embarrassing. This was stupid. He knew, though, that Boris wouldn’t just laugh at him. He knew that Boris would take him seriously because Theo was being serious.

Theo was bored. Theo was horny. It was serious. 

He didn’t say anything. He let the silence stretch and so did Boris, but Theo grew tired of it, of the inactivity. So, he took off his glasses, set them aside and slid down into the pool water. Popchyk let out a bark of surprise and Boris one of his own, a bark of a laugh. 

The water was cool as it came up and around Theo’s head. He submerged himself completely. Sinking down, down, down until he was at the bottom of the pool. His black t-shirt ballooned up around him until he pushed it down and looked up. The sky was just beginning to get dark, framed by the blue watery lights of the pool. Just above him he could see Boris’ dark head leaning over to look down at him, then the moon full and round beyond him—two matched white faces watching him at the bottom of the water. 

Down at the bottom of the pool, the quiet was pure. It was sublime. Enhanced by the dull pulse of his heart beat, the throb of his veins and the ache as his lungs begged for air. Theo could stay down there forever and would have but strong broad hands attached to sinewy thin arms were dragging him up, up. A wet, slick back was pressed to his as he broke the surface with all the drama of a desperate, haggard gasp.

“You are such a fucking asshole,” came Boris’ half laughing half angry shout into Theo’s ear. They were pressed close, so the sound of it was too loud but Theo didn’t flinch away. He was shivering, pulling in air in hard, hungry grasps. 

Boris was still holding onto him by the armpits, hard enough to probably bruise. Theo turned in his grip, eyelashes thick from the chlorinated water and eyes already going bloodshot for having had them open in it for too long. “How long was I down there?”

“I don’t know! Too long! Thought you were pulling another of your stunts you fucking lunatic,” Boris accused but he didn’t actually seem angry now that Theo was looking at him, just fondly amused. 

There had been worse times, Theo knew. Times when he’d pushed it much farther than just sitting on the bottom of the pool. He wasn’t in that headspace now. Theo wasn’t even sad—not really, he was always in some existential bullshit way, always sad in some regard. Right now, though, with Boris close enough he could smell the stale scent of cigarettes on his breath and with naked thighs—fuck.

Theo drew back just enough, eyes darting down.

“You fucker you’re naked—“

“What else to do, thought you were drowning!”

Theo laughed and shoved Boris away, hands grappling at his thick mop of hair. “I’ll drown _you_!” he cried. “Fucking skinny dipping to save me my ass you fucking faggot pervert!”

They grappled dangerously. Sharp flying elbows contacting with a cheek, a fist hitting a mouth, knee grazing into a rib. Across the pool they went until Boris had Theo pinned against the deepest end, always stronger, with Theo’s hands over his head and looming over him with a familiar cruel grin. 

“Give up, give up,” he taunted, grinding the bones of Theo’s wrists in his hands. Theo thrashed in his hold. Struck with sudden inspiration Theo shifted his weight and lifted his hips up, planning what at first he couldn’t be sure, but he wrapped his legs around Boris’ middle and squeezed, but had only succeeded in two things. One: pressing his ass, in flimsy tighty-whities, against Boris’ naked cock; and two: bringing awareness to the fact that Boris’ was half hard.

The expression of cruel mirth fell from Boris’ face and the grip on Theo’s wrists let go. Theo felt like he was at the bottom of the pool again, looking up at Boris, with no air in his lungs. Thirsty.

Before Boris could react, could pull away. Theo grabbed Boris’ face in two hands and pulled him roughly down into a kiss, their mouths wet and chapped with chlorine. Boris was stiff and unmoving, a statue. He was still half-hard and Theo had kept his legs wrapped there, had kept the pressure of his ass against Boris’ cock. 

He had never wanted something so much in his life.

How long they stayed like that, Theo wasn’t sure. It felt like it spanned a lifetime. Boris slowly turned from marble to flesh again but he did not move, he did not reciprocate. He just pulled away, his black eyes wide with alarm. Ashamed.

“I didn’t---” 

“It’s okay,” Theo said, shushing him. It was a miracle Theo wasn’t hard. Well, not so much. Theo was well practiced at turning himself off, especially when he was around Boris. It was critical as he was always around Boris. 

Was this the first Boris had ever gotten hard during one of their play fights? It had pretty much happened on day one to Theo but he’d been lucky they’d both been wearing jeans and it was back when Theo still had his propensity to wear oversized sweaters. Since then, Theo had almost become a monk in his practice of repressing his urges. It didn’t help that they slept practically on top of each other. He had woken up on a handful of mornings to get an eyeful of Boris’ morning wood and had escape the bedroom to hastily take care of his own situation in the shower because how could he fucking not. 

He didn’t know why he had become obsessed with Boris like this but that was also a lie. How could Theo not have become obsessed with Boris? His world revolved around Boris. Theo’s sun and moon set on the dirty, unwashed head of Boris Pavlikovsky. 

Theo gentled the hands still cupping Boris’ cheeks and wiped away the pool water dripping onto his face in gentle, uneven strokes. There was a shake to his hand. There was feeling of unreality to this moment. _you can’t always get what you want… but if you try sometime… _

“It’s okay,” Theo repeatedly senselessly and he leaned up to kiss Boris’ forehead, each of his cheeks and then his chin. When he drew back he was surprised to see Boris’ eyes were shut. “I want you to feel good.”

“It does feel good,” Boris mumbled, almost too quiet to hear. He was fully hard now, Theo realized, and a shiver went through him. His own cock was half hard, trapped awkwardly between his thighs, but it went to raging at this. 

Theo rocked forward experimentally and the groan he got in response was worth it. He found himself smiling, wicked like Boris, who was still looking like he was expecting Theo to lash out and punch him. Theo took one of his hands floating at their side to stick between his thighs, over his hard cock, the head of which was peaking from his underwear now.

He groaned at the touch, head falling back against the edge of the pool. “Oh fuck.” 

Boris’ eyes had lit up and he slid his hand along the shape of Theo, slowly at first, and then all bets were off. It was all Boris now, his hand sliding into Theo’s underwear without second thought now, taking Theo completely in hand, holding a little too tight and pulling a little too hard. The angle was awkward and Boris couldn’t get a good rhythm but Theo couldn’t possibly give a shit about any of that. Boris was touching his cock, who cared, he could probably come in ten seconds, maybe even sooner, and then be ready to come in another ten. 

“We should get out of pool,” Boris said and he was panting, eyebrows furrowed. He looked confused and Theo didn’t understand why. What was there to be confused about? 

“Why?”

“Because this fucking sucks and--”

Theo pushed his hips against Boris cock and whatever other complaints Boris had wanted to voice turned into garbled moans. Theo smirked again, pleased with this new trick to shut up Boris. It wouldn’t be useful in any situation, but he would know of it. A hidden weakness that Theo only had access to. 

His time to be smug didn’t last. Boris was pushing him up and out of the pool, arms under his armpits. Theo gasped and knew better to fight. The rough, coral-like texture of the poured cement that was at the edge of the pool was dangerous. It had wounded them on many occasions. He flailed up onto the pool deck and glared indignantly at Boris who pulled himself easily from the water, which sluiced down over him, the faded Pepsi t-shirt heavy with water and clinging to him. It was just long enough to hit him above the thighs and looked comical with his hard dick sticking out from underneath it. 

Theo burst out laughing at the sight, rolling onto his side, arms clutched around his middle, unable to help himself. He only knew shouldn’t laugh, considering the sight he must have made. Pasty white skin, covered in freckles and red blotches where the sun had got to burn him, tighty-whity underwear so threadbare it was probably nearly clear from the water and clinging to his skin. Theo wasn’t exactly picture perfect either. 

Boris was glaring down at him, standing over him, a foot on either side of him with arms crossed over his chest. “How can you laugh at a man at a time like this?”

“‘A man?’” Theo repeated incredulously.

“Yes, I am a man,” Boris repeated, looking smug. “You are about to suck my cock, no? This makes me a man.”

Theo felt himself flush hot, burning with the shame of Boris’ words. He never said he would do anything of the sort but the way they were positioned now, how Boris had put them to be positioned. The worst of it was Theo did want to suck Boris’ cock and it hadn’t even been his idea. He was fucking disgusting. 

He sat up, the sand on the pool deck gritty under his hands and clinging to them from their dampness. “You really think I’m going to suck your cock?”

“Yes, Potter,” Boris said, and his voice had dropped lower now. A tone Theo had never heard from him before. It was the same one his dad used when he spoke to Xandra when he thought Theo couldn’t hear them. “I don’t think, I know.” 

With those words Boris reached down and gripped at Theo’s dirty blond head and dragged him further up off the ground. The hand in his hair was yanking hard enough to hurt. Humiliation burned in his gut. “Up, up, come on, don’t be like that, kotik, I’ll suck yours after.”

“You promise?” Theo asked and hated himself for how eagerly breathless he sounded for it. Boris just nodded, understanding, and Boris kept his promises. 

Theo settled up on his knees, the concrete of the pool deck digging into his knees but he was unaware of that, all of his attention focused completely on Boris in front of him. The lighting out in the backyard was poor and came only from a bright, blindingly yellow bare bulb that hung over the sliding backdoor. Boris was silhouetted by it now, his back to the lamp, holding up the hem of his shirt, and Theo couldn’t see much else. Not that he would be able to make much out without his glasses on but he still was desperate to at least try. 

He shuffled on the side and gripped at Boris’ hip, turning him firmly to the side, bringing Boris’ cock into full light. Boris huffed a laugh but Theo ignored him, squinting his eyes to wrap his hand around Boris’ cock and there was no more laughter from above him, just a hoarse groan. 

It was still difficult to see, the combination of his lack of glasses and the bad lighting, but Theo would have to make do. He leaned in to pressing his mouth to the damp head of Boris’ cock and then parting his lips around the glans. The taste was not good. It was a mix of chlorine, sweat, and a sour, unfamiliar taste. That had to be the precome. 

Theo only just knew vaguely about precome, vaguely listening to what had been said in their sex-ed class. He hadn’t expected a cock to taste like candy or something but the combination of flavors almost made him gag. 

Boris’ hand was in his hair again. “C’mon, Potter.” 

Not to be deterred, Theo pressed on, opening his mouth wider to take Boris in deeper. It had always looked so easy the way the ladies in the porn videos he sometimes tried to covertly watch whenever he was actually alone. Boris’ hadn’t looked so big but in Theo’s mouth it felt much different. Saliva pooled all in his mouth, spilling over his lips and messily down his chin. Boris' cock was hot to burning in Theo’s mouth and heavy on his tongue. 

He kept his hand around what couldn’t get what of Boris’ cock in his mouth, then he experimentally drew back, tongue dragging up under until Boris’ cock was almost free from his mouth and then back down Theo went. He managed this for a few solid minutes and the flavor began to become okay because it mostly just tasted like his own saliva and skin now but every once in a while there would be a new burst of sour precome. The sounds Boris was making was worth any bitterness.

Boris was crooning to him in a variety of languages. He had started with Ukrainian, then Russian, then Polish, and then nonsense English. The hand had remained in Theo’s hair, clenched tight, pulling every so often. Theo had decided he liked it. Had decided what he liked about any of this wasn’t the actual cock in his mouth because, frankly, it was disgusting. No, what he liked was the words of adoration coming from Boris’ and the pull of fingers through his hair. The way that shame burned in Theo from being on his knees, humiliated. 

Theo liked that it made Boris feel good.

When Boris came, it was a surprise to them both. Boris cried out above him, hips slamming forward into Theo’s mouth, who had just experimentally swirled his tongue around Boris’ cock and sucked quite a bit harder than he had before and his mouth had flooded with sour, bitter liquid unmistakable in what it was. 

“Fuck!” Theo drew back with a gasp, semen and spit dribbled down his chin, reaching up to wipe it away. Boris was staring down at him in unabashed horror but also looking at him as if he’d just performed a miracle. Theo felt like he had, except for how he was covered in body fluids. 

“Potter, Potter,” Boris was chanting and pulled Theo up to his feet. “Can’t believe you just did that.”

“Are you kidding? You just told me to--”

“You wanted to! You wanted to suck my cock!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Theo balked, shoving Boris back and almost nearly into the pool again. “I did! Why are you acting like this?”

“Not acting like anything!” Boris said but he was not annoyed. He was Theo but Theo ducked out of reach, around Boris and towards the house. “But I want to--”

“I need a drink,” Theo insisted and continued into the sliding glass doors only stopping to retrieve his abandoned glasses. Popper, who had fallen asleep on one of Xandra's tanning chairs jumped up to follow after him. “And to wash my mouth out.”

“Potter you wound me,” Boris whined as he followed after. “First you laugh at me then you do not let me touch you. Please, do not hurt me so.”

“Fuck you.”

Theo poured them each a generous glass of vodka and had already downed half of his before Boris had even shut the sliding glass door and locked it. The vodka helped clear his head. The buzz they’d had going an hour ago was long gone by now. He was glad to have been sober for what had just happened but he needed something, anything, to get him through what would happen next. Having Boris touch him… the idea terrified him. Theo did not place his own idolization to himself. Boris… Pippa… they possessed and embodied everything Theo desired. They were beautiful, two foils in Theo’s life that occupied his heart. 

Of course he imagined being in bed with them but it never went beyond Theo touching Boris, kissing Boris, fucking Boris. The fact that Boris wanted to suck Theo’s dick was more than a little terrifying. 

He turned to say something but Boris was there, right behind him, very close. When that had happened, Theo didn’t know, he had been caught up in his thoughts. Boris stared into his eyes, his brows furrowed deeply like they did whenever he was about to say something that was either a very good idea or was going to make Theo very angry. 

“You do not want me to suck your dick?”

“No, I do,” Theo said in a rush. Boris was still half naked in his Pepsi shirt, dripping water onto the kitchen tile. There weren’t any lights on in the house, just the light coming in from outside, and in this light he looked ashen, surreal. 

Theo leaned in, up on his toes, and they kissed for real. Their mouths sliding together wetly. Boris’ hands settled on his hips, fingers dipping in and under the old elastic of Theo’s tighty-whities and Theo reached up to tug at the collar of his t-shirt. Kissing was good. Boris' lips were still chapped and tasted of chlorine but he was a good kisser. At least Theo thought he was. He didn't exactly have a frame of reference. 

They broke apart and Boris’ slid his hands into Theo’s underwear to cup the globes of his ass and squeeze. “You are tease, you know,” he said, again in that voice that made Theo feel like he was made of butter and beginning to melt. “Unfair to me that you are pretty as girl and throw yourself all over me.”

“You’re just the same,” Theo replied back. He traced a finger along the bone of Boris’ jaw. “You’re always undressing in my room, sitting across my lap, or laying on top of me.”

Boris’ eyes lit up, glowing brighter and brighter with each example and he slowly grinned when Theo had finished. 

“Ah, yes, suppose I do these things,” Boris replied. “But I am innocent boy, just your friend.”

“Fuck you!”

Boris laughed and drew Theo in for another kiss and then took Theo by the hand to lead him up into the bedroom, pushed Theo onto the bed and crawling over him and finally shedding that ridiculous t-shirt. He settled onto Theo’s thighs, tugging the tighty-whities down. 

“I did these things because being close to you feels good, Potter,” Boris said but it was quiet, almost so that Theo almost did not catch it. 

Then Boris was pressing Theo’s knees up and stretching out on his belly, settled between Theo’s thighs. The picture of him framed there, his messy dark head and pale pretty face framed by Theo’s thighs is an image that Theo would never forget. Boris smirked up at him, stroking lazily at Theo’s cock. 

“I’m like you, have never done this before,” Boris said and leaned in. All Theo knew after that was the wet, hot all encompassing heat of Boris’ mouth around him. It felt divine. It felt as good as any of the drugs they had taken. (In fact they had to take something and do this again, really make their blood sing.)

That it was Boris’ dark head bobbing between his thighs, giving him his first blowjob, somehow only seemed correct. The world had a set writ of fate. A predicted course. Theo was born, his mother would die, he would end up in Vegas with his father, he would meet Boris who would be his best friend and give him his first blow job. 

Theo watched Boris’ but didn’t watch, feeling out of body. This was happening to him and to someone else. The sensation of the pleasure too high to comprehend and thus just sending him to a separate plane of existence. 

Boris was humming as he bobbed his head. There was as much messy spit from Boris mouth, except because they weren’t standing, it was ending up on Theo’s thighs or his balls or the sheets. Theo was disgusting because he thought this was hot and that he was so incredibly turned on that at this point he didn’t know how he hadn’t come yet. 

And then, Boris looked up at him.

Theo cried out, hands clenched at the pillow behind his head, back going taught like a wire about to snap and knees shaking beside Boris’ head as he came. 

The world was a haze for a moment. Boris was crawling up beside him and saying something but Theo was still adrift. 

“--does not taste good, I see what you were saying but not so bad,” Boris was saying when Theo could manage reality again. He turned his head in Boris’ direction. 

“That was really fucking good.”

“Am telling you we need to do it again, maybe on weed and definitely on E.”

“Yeah,” Theo replied, breathless with the prospect. 

Boris was his now. Fully and completely, though he could not wrap him up and place him behind his headboard to keep safe forever, Theo could at least keep him this way. Boris would come back to him again, and again, and again. For this. For him. For food. For comfort. For friendship. For safety. Boris was his. 

**Author's Note:**

> mostly inspired by the pool scene in Goldfinch, partly inspired by the fact that I, too, am as much of a nasty boy as Theodore Decker. yes the lyrics are Tears for Fears but also please enjoy the Japanese Breakfast version, which is more suited for the mood of this fic. 
> 
> check out my goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/softpanic  
check out my twitter: https://twitter.com/yoloshoujo


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